


Plumage

by Taamar



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s02e04 Meat, Shameless Smut, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taamar/pseuds/Taamar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident with tech. Wings all around. Whatever shall Torchwood do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plumage

**Author's Note:**

> Another repost from FF.net. This story is firmly in the ‘M’ category, and no bending or stretching of definitions (I tried!) will allow me to claim otherwise. This means that if you slog through the narrative, you will be rewarded with smut. I hope you find it worth it.

****

** ARA MACAOH **

**_The Scarlet Macaw is a large, long-tailed neo-tropical parrot with vividly coloured wings in red, yellow and blue. Highly intelligent, macaws are able to mimic human speech and have shown understanding of communication. Despite this, they are likely to latch on to obscenities, as they generate the most attention. Macaws are sensitive birds who are easily bored and exhibit aggression and/or self-destructive behavior under stress._ **

 

Owen woke to the sound of his mobile ringing. Not an unusual occurrence, given his habit of sleeping in, especially after a late call-out, nor was it unusual that he grabbed it from the nightstand shoved it under a pillow. Jack could bloody well wait until Owen was ready to be conscious, or at least until sunrise.

When the mobile awakened him the second time, he pressed _receive_ and said, “Sod off, Harkness,” before pitching it to the other side of the room. And damned if he wasn’t awake now. He groaned as he rolled to the side for his customary morning crotch-scratch, the groan converting to a shout as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He didn’t remember being injured, so he reached behind his back and, encountering a feather, tugged it. It came loose, and he yelped at the unexpected pain. As Owen looked down at the bright yellow feather in his hand and contemplated the ache in a place he was certain hadn’t existed before, a conclusion started to form in the back of his sleep-addled mind. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Wings. He had fucking wings. Carefully, he rolled off the bed, then stretched. A flash of blue in his peripheral vision caught his attention; apparently his wings spread when he moved. He turned his head and looked at his bright blue wing tips, then again at the yellow feather in his hand, and decided that he’d best get to a mirror to see just how screwed he was. His mobile rang again, but Owen had no intention of answering it until he had a better idea of what was going on.

Owen stood nude in the ensuite and looked over his shoulder at his reflection: vivid scarlet feathers sprouted from his back, then shifted to yellow. _Coverts,_ his mind supplied, remembering a long-ago veterinary anatomy course in pre-med, _and the long blue ones are primaries_. Parrot wings. As he stared at them and became more agitated, they started to spread, and it took concentration to get them to fold neatly against his back. Actually, when he thought about it, it was a wonder he was able to control them at all. Humans weren’t put together to have wings, and so the musculature required was entirely new. If he weren’t so angry about it, he’d be fascinated. He stretched his wings out fully and grumbled. Why a parrot? Why, if he was going to get stuck with wings, did he have to end up with the ones that looked like a Pride parade? Jack would probably get something cool, if it happened to him. Huge raven wings, or eagle, or some majestic shit like that. There was no way Owen was letting any of the team see his candy-coloured humiliation. No way in hell.

His mobile rang again–Jack of course­–and he answered it only so that he would have someone to vent his anger at.

“I’m not coming in today. Possibly ever, so you can stop calling.”

_“Mandatory staff meeting in an hour, Owen. Get your ass here, something’s happened and we need our doctor.”_

“I’m not leaving my fucking flat.”

_“Don’t make me come fetch you, I’m seriously not in the mood. One hour.”_

Jack disconnected the call, and Owen threw the mobile across the room. It shattered, and he grumbled, knowing he’d have to go to Ianto to get the requisition forms for a new one. Again. He snatched a dirty pair of trousers from the floor and, as he hitched them up, picked up a shirt and stared at it. That wasn’t going to work. He grabbed the fabric between his fists and yanked, tearing the back of the shirt until there was room for his wings. When he was done wrestling it over his head and wings, Owen picked his leather jacket up and, without thinking, tried to put it on, catching the tip of his wing in the sleeve. He reached back to untangle himself, but the act of flexing his shoulder caused his wings to spread, dangling the coat out of his reach. He tried to lunge for it, and the unaccustomed weight of his upper body toppled him over. The only thing that saved him was his wings instinctively flapping to ease his landing. He lay on the floor and consciously tried to calm himself enough to get the coat off his wing. When he had extricated himself and struggled to his feet, he kicked the offending garment. How was he supposed to get to work without flashing his wings at all of Cardiff? It’s not like they were inconspicuous! Angry again, his feathers ruffled and he swore. He finally found a bathrobe at the back of his closet and, after thinking soothing thoughts of all the ways to make Jack pay for this, managed to get it over his wings.

Getting into his car presented another challenge. His wings, even folded, extended past his waist, and there was no way to sit in the driver’s seat without adjusting them somewhat. He reclined the seat and carefully spread his wings under the robe and tucked the tips in the space in the back seat behind him.

He was the last to arrive at the Hub. When Owen entered the conference room he was pleased to see that the rest of the team had been similarly changed. They were all seated backwards on wooden chairs that must have been fetched from storage, and while Ianto was wearing a dark gray trench coat over his casual clothes (he must not have wanted to ruin a suit, Owen thought), there was a suspicious lump under it that Owen recognized. The girls weren’t even trying to hide: Gwen wore a backless shirt that was clearly club wear, and was, amusingly, nearly the same colour blue as her feathers. Tosh, with her elegant black and white wings, had chosen a sundress with straps that crossed over in back. There was a large lap blanket puddled on the floor behind her, suggesting that she’d kept her wings covered during her drive in. Jack, being Jack, sat at the head of the table, shirtless and with a bed sheet wrapped around his hips, displaying wings that were black and golden, with gray and brown ticking between his shoulders. Not a raven or an eagle, but it was a damn sight more dignified than Owen’s own parrot wings. Which he _wasn’t_ going to show anyone.

“So kind of you to show up, Dr. Harper,” said Ianto blandly as he slid a cup of coffee across the table. Just this once, Owen was willing to overlook his prodding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed caffeine this badly.

 

* * *

 

 

** PICA PICA **

**_The Eurasian magpie is believed not only to be among the brightest of birds, but among the most intelligent of all animals. Like other corvids, such as ravens and crows, their total brain-to-body mass ratio is equal to most great apes' and cetaceans’. Magpies have been observed engaging in elaborate social rituals, possibly including the expression of grief. Mirror self-recognition has been demonstrated in European magpies, making them one of but a few species and the only non-mammal known to possess this capability. The cognitive abilities of the Eurasian magpie are regarded as evidence that intelligence evolved independently in both corvids and primates. This is indicated by tool use, an ability to hide and store food across seasons, episodic memory, and using their own experience to predict the behavior of unknowns._ **

 

With all the strange things Tosh had experienced while working for Torchwood, waking up with wings didn’t even rank in the top ten. Yes, it had been startling, but once she was over the initial shock, it had been… intriguing. She’d spent the morning researching birds and experimenting, though her flat didn’t have high enough ceilings to stretch out completely. She looked forward to having enough room to really test things out; a bit of math suggested that the wings might be able to support her weight in flight, but she needed accurate measurements. She was already considering safety precautions as she nibbled at the Welsh cakes Rhys had sent in with Gwen. At least there was _some_ benefit to his knowing about them.

While Owen brooded over his coffee (Tosh noted that he still had his wings covered and wondered what they looked like), Jack brought the meeting to order.

“OK, kids, clearly we’ve had a bit of a mishap with tech.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Harkness,” Owen muttered. Gwen, seated across from him, threw a crumpled napkin, which he batted aside.

“Let’s start with the things we all handled yesterday.” Jack rocked forward on his chair.

Tosh spoke up. “Owen, Jack, and Gwen were on call-out last night, but it was after hours when you got back, and I was already home, so it couldn’t have been that. Gwen was at the police station while I was working on that energy weapon.”

“I had several things I was cataloguing in the morning yesterday, but Owen wasn’t in yet.” Ianto added.

Gwen tapped the table to get everyone’s attention. “What about Jack’s music box?”

“I’ve had that for years,” Jack argued.

“Well, the only time I remember us all being together yesterday was lunch, and the only thing that was any different was that music box.”

Tosh was surprised that she hadn’t thought of that. She had been focused on which items had been in use and hadn’t thought to track the movements of the people instead. Trust Gwen to figure something like that out! And she was right: they’d all had lunch together, and Jack had brought the music box up from his quarters when Ianto had pointed out that nothing truly good ever came through the Rift. It was a lovely thing, all blown glass and silver. Rather than being spring-driven as Earth music boxes, it was activated by breath; one blew lightly across the opening, and the air was directed across the tops of crystal pipes, producing an ethereal whistling, almost like a–

“Gwen’s right, it was the music box,” said Tosh, already planning her research strategy.

“I’ll get it,” Ianto said, heading up to Jack’s office.

 _Why is Ianto fetching it?_ Tosh wondered. I _t’s probably in Jack’s r– Oh!_ Ianto not only felt comfortable going into Jack’s quarters without him, it seemed that he knew where things were better than Jack did. Clearly, he spent quite a bit of time down there, far beyond what was necessary to keep it tidy. And now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw Ianto go home or come in. Could it be that he was staying here? With Jack? Whatever was going on between Ianto and Jack, it was more serious than either had let on. She looked at Jack, who nodded minutely. _I wonder if the others have figured it out?_

When Ianto returned with the music box, he set it on the table. Tosh reached for it but, unused to sitting backwards on the chair, and unaccustomed to the weight of her wings, she tipped forward. Owen reached out and caught her.

“Thanks.”

Owen shrugged. “Tipped over myself this morning; damned things are awkward. They look good on you, though,” he said, gesturing her back. She turned to look and stumbled again, ending up with Owen’s arms wrapped around her and her wings spread for balance. She righted herself, and Owen stepped back. Tosh almost sighed at the loss of contact. Owen had been _holding her_. He had complimented her, sort of.

She reminded herself to focus on the problem. Yes, Owen occasionally treated her like a human being, but it never lasted. She really needed to get over this infatuation of hers before he­—

“Anyway, can’t let you fall over and hit your head, then what use would you be to us?”

Yes. That. That was the Owen she was used to. He stopped being a prat just long enough to give her hope, then left her reeling in the inevitable disappointment when Owen started acting like Owen again. Tosh, careful of her balance this time, took the music box from where Ianto had set it and inspected it closely.

As she lifted it to her lips to activate it, Gwen shouted, “Stop!” Tosh paused and looked at her expectantly.

“Should we… that was what did this, right? Shouldn’t we be more careful with it?” asked Gwen.

“You think we’ll end up with more wings?” Owen snarked.

“Or beaks or something. I’m just saying… carelessness got us here.”

“Jack says he’s used it before with no ill effects; there was no reason to believe this time would be any different,” said Ianto with a shrug. “Maybe the first step is getting some data on the physical changes.”

Jack nodded. “And that’s why I dragged you out of bed, Owen. Not for your charming personality or shining wit.”

Tosh was perversely pleased to see Owen give Jack the two finger salute, and even more pleased when he stood and tapped her back between her wings.

“Spread ‘em,” Owen said with a smirk. Jack choked back a laugh, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

Tosh carefully extended her wings, then shuddered when Owen’s prodding at the musculature at the joint inadvertently caressed her feathers. It was… surprisingly intimate and erotic. Her cheeks burned, and she wondered if she should say something. After a moment of consideration, she decided not to. For science.

Gwen clearly knew exactly what was happening (what had she and Rhys been up to before work?) and looked away uncomfortably. Ianto saw it too and, coming to her rescue as usual, began to recite,

_One for sorrow_

_Two for mirth_

_Three for death_

_Four for birth_

_Five for silver_

_Six for gold_

_Seven for a secret never to be told_

_Eight for a wish_

_Nine for a kiss_

_Ten for a bird you must not miss._

Owen paused for a moment, confused. Ianto explained, “My gran used to say it when she saw a magpie. She used to polish pennies and set them out for birds to steal. I found an old nest once, full of pennies and all the other things magpies collect. There was an old silver bracelet in it, a chain of intertwined eternity symbols. I gave it to Lisa on the anniversary of our first kiss.”

They were all silent for a moment. Ianto didn’t speak about Lisa very often, and it was sometimes hard for Tosh to remember that Lisa Hallett had once been more than a Cyberman. She’d had parents, maybe siblings. She probably went to Uni and had hobbies. She and Ianto must have had ‘their song’. Tosh realized that she didn’t know _any_ of these things. All the times she’d gone to the pub with Ianto and he’d listened to her go on about her family and her non-existent love life, she’d never thought to ask about Lisa. That would change, she resolved.

 

* * *

 

** PAVO CRISTATUS **

**_The Indian Peafowl is a large bird of the pheasant family best known for the male’s extravagant fan-like display, which he uses to show dominance and attract mates, of which he tends to have many. Peacocks are highly protective of their territory and group, but are only aggressive when threatened._ **

****

Jack had seen the bracelet in the old candy box Ianto used to keep things that were important to him. After their first date, he’d watched as Ianto tucked away a seashell they’d found while walking on the beach. Jack had later taken the box out to snoop while Ianto showered; it had contained, among other things, a dictionary page, folded and slightly scorched, with the word _pretentious_ circled with a purple heart; a pair of reddish gold rings, one small enough to nest in the other; a tarnished straight razor; a brass button that looked suspiciously like one of John Hart’s; and a sprig of rosemary. Jack thought Ianto was rather like a magpie himself, hiding the shiny bits of himself safely out of sight.

A sharp intake of breath from Tosh broke Jack from his thoughts to see her standing stock-still with her eyes closed and her hands balled up into fists, her cheeks and throat flushed. Owen was still examining her wings, prodding and manipulating indiscriminately. She was obviously trying to keep her reactions to herself, but Jack knew how arousing it was to be touched like that. Ianto had spent the night, as he often did these days, and Jack had been awakened by hands buried in his feathers and an erection hard against his hip. It had gone against every instinct he had to deny Ianto’s insistence that they _do something about this_ and put off sex until later.

Since Jack had returned from his time with the Doctor, he and Ianto had been through some rough patches. His feelings for the man, already frighteningly intense before he left, had only solidified while he was away, and he had returned with the intent of building something real between them. Problem was, Jack was _terrible_ at that sort of thing, and he knew it. He had asked Ianto out on a date, but it had taken him weeks to actually follow through, prompting Ianto to ask if it had been merely a reaction to Gwen’s engagement. It hadn’t been; Jack had been planning it for months, but Gwen had always been a point of conflict between them. Most recently, Jack’s behaviour toward her during the space whale incident had caused Ianto to pull away. In the end, Jack had apologized, Ianto had forgiven him, and they had discussed what to do about Rhys. And Gwen.

He had noticed himself leaning on Ianto more and more for the day-to-day workings of Torchwood. Jack couldn’t remember ever making the choice, but Ianto delivering coffee and paperwork had led to discussing paperwork over coffee, had led to Ianto coming with recommendations already in mind, had led to Jack simply telling him to use his judgment on the small issues and only come to Jack with the important ones. Thus far, Ianto’s judgment had proven quite good indeed, so when he had told Jack that he had an idea about Rhys, but needed some time to research its viability, Jack moved on, knowing it would be sorted in the best possible way. It was best that he not be involved, anyway. He’d always had a blind spot about Gwen, and when Ianto had called him on his repeated favouritism, he’d resolved not to let himself be manipulated by his complicated feelings for her. Not that he thought Gwen did it on purpose, but the result had been her getting away with things Jack never would have allowed from the others. He could trust Ianto to be fair and rational.

Jack was so lost in thought that he almost missed hearing Ianto clear his throat quietly. He looked up to see the other man flick his eyes over to Tosh. Owen was still examining her wings, oblivious; she had progressed from stillness to trembling, and had begun gnawing on her lower lip. Jack decided to step in. “Owen, quit fondling Tosh’s wings and show us yours.”

“No way. And Ianto’s still got his coat on, too. Ask him. “

Jack had already seen Ianto’s wings, but despite the other man’s slip when he offered to fetch the music box, which Tosh had caught, Ianto didn’t want the team to know about their… whatever it was. Neither of them felt the need to label it; it simply _was_ , and it was good. So he didn’t say anything.

Ianto, observant as ever, saw his dilemma and challenged Owen. “I’ll show you mine it you’ll show me yours,” he said with a cheeky grin. Owen sputtered and took off the bathrobe he’d worn in.

“Fine,” he snarled, throwing the garment down. Jack bit his lip to keep from laughing; Owen would never forgive it. “Happy now?” His brightly coloured wings started to lift in agitation.

“They’re quite pretty,” offered Tosh.

“Fuck off.”

“My turn, then?” Ianto asked, taking his overcoat off to display the sleek charcoal gray feathers Jack had seen spread out over them both that morning.

“Dullest bird ever,” Owen said to Ianto with a sneer. “Figures. What kind of boring bird are you, anyway?”

“If you paid any attention to the outside world, you’d know. You probably passed a cormorant on your way in.”

Gwen choked back a laugh, and Ianto glared at her.

 

* * *

 

 

** CYANOCITTA CRISTATA **

**_The blue jay is an active, noisy, bright blue bird with a distinctive head crest, black necklace, gray-white underbelly, and white spots on both its wings and on its tail. The vocalizations made by blue jays are as distinctive and as definitive as their plumage. From a loud piercing ‘jeeah’ scream to a rounded, flute-like whistle, the blue jay seems to spend a great deal of its time and energy communicating. Just to whom and for what purpose these communications are intended is not always obvious. Blue jays congregate in groups, the focus of which is a lead female, whose activities determine the behavior of the entire group._ **

 

“What’s so funny?” Owen asked as Gwen tried unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles.

“Nothing!”

Now Tosh was looking at her too. Ianto shook his head and looked forbidding, making eye contact with all three.

“You seriously don’t want to be on my bad side,” he warned.

Gwen thought about it. She really _didn’t_ want to upset Ianto, but it was just too funny not to share. Besides, Ianto appreciated a good joke as much as anyone; it was only fair that he take the fall once in a while. And what could he do to her? Serve her bad coffee? Anything he made would be better than her own, and she could always stop at Costa on the way in. She took a deep breath and met Ianto’s eyes challengingly.

“Ask any fisherman, and he’ll tell you that those birds are ‘common shags’. Great shags exist, but not in Cardiff!”

Ianto glanced away, and for a moment Jack looked outraged and his wings twitched. Then he smiled, feral and full of teeth. Gwen stepped back; she’d seen Jack bristle, but never at her. Everyone turned toward Ianto when he cleared his throat.

“My condolences to Rhys, but I’m from Newport. And I assure you that I’m anything but _common_.”

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Ianto stood tall, defiant. Jack flicked his gaze between Gwen and Owen as if daring them to comment. She heard a rustling from behind Jack and looked; under the sheet he was wearing, a large fan of iridescent blue feathers was starting to spread.

Owen saw it at the same moment. “What the fuck, Harkness? How come you’ve got tail feathers and the rest of us don’t?”

A genuine laugh from Tosh broke the tension. “You have to admit, it suits him,” she said. Ianto nodded, and Gwen had to agree that it was true; she couldn’t imagine any other bird that suited Jack’s personality so well.

“So Owen is a parrot, Jack is a peacock, Tosh is a magpie, and Ianto is a–“ she paused and enunciated the next word firmly, “ _cormorant_. What am I?”

“Blue jay,” Ianto said quietly. He had either forgiven her already, or he was waiting for a more suitable moment to get her back for the dig about the common shag. With Ianto, one could never tell. “Your wedding is coming up soon, you’re ‘something blue’.”

“I certainly hope this will be sorted before then; Rhys’s mother already hates me. And it’s a good thing Rhys knows about Torchwood, since he had to drive me in this morning with me lying across the back seat!” Gwen smirked. She’d been thinking about it ever since she woke up with feathers sprouting from her back: now even Jack would have to admit that Rhys shouldn’t be Retconned.

Jack’s expression hardened. “You really don’t want to discuss this now, Gwen.”

She did, though. She had been right; enough things happened to her outside of work that Rhys had to know. At least now he’d understand when she had to work late. Once, before he’d found out, he’d sarcastically said, “Oh yes, I’m sure the world will fucking end if you come home on time.” It had been during the incident with Beth and the alien sleeper cell, and it probably would have, but she hadn’t been able to tell him that, and he’d thought she was having an affair. Of course, this thing with Jack… but she couldn’t think about that. She needed to focus on Rhys, and him knowing about Torchwood was a part of that.

“It’s true though,” she pressed. “I need someone to talk to, someone who knows. I have to be able to tell him things to keep him safe; he has to understand the dangers. He was _shot_ in that warehouse! For me! You don’t know what it’s like to see someone you love threatened like that and be helpless!”

Now Jack looked furious. Ianto reached over and grasped his hand, giving him a questioning look. Jack nodded and relaxed, and Gwen was struck with a sudden realization: Ianto was always right there, silently supporting Jack. And it had been going on a long time.

Ianto took his hand back and spoke, quietly as usual, but with confidence. “We have some ideas for a solution, but now really isn’t the time.”

 _We?_ Jack had consulted Ianto on work matters? Gwen began to wonder if she had seriously underestimated Ianto’s position within Torchwood. “Like what?”

“We can talk about it later, with Rhys. You weren’t wrong about him remembering, but the way you demanded it, and some of the things you said, were very hurtful. To all of us. Yes, you’re the only one of us with a relationship outside of Torchwood, but think about the reason for it. Remember who covers for you when you want the evening off,” he looked at Tosh, “who cleans your gear so you can go home early,” Owen, “and who does your paperwork. Remember that Jack _lives here_ so we can all go home at night. We are able to do that for you _because_ we have no one outside, because we’ve already lost everything but each other.” Ianto looked at Jack, whose eyes were shining with gratitude and… affection?

Gwen had known they were involved somehow, but she had never noticed how much Jack relied on Ianto, hadn’t seen the depth of emotion between them. She saw it now. Then she remembered what had happened in the warehouse: Jack had sent Ianto after the man who’d just tried to kill him. While she was on the floor with Rhys, Jack had sent someone he lo– _cared about_ into danger, and she’d told him the he couldn’t understand. That Rhys was brave. That Rhys _mattered_. She’d been careless. Thoughtless. Hurtful. And now she felt worse than she could ever remember. These were her _friends_ , and she had treated them appallingly. Her throat tightened and tears welled up in her eyes. Her wings drooped.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking around to all of them.

Ianto nodded, and Tosh held out her hand across the table. Gwen took it, and knew she’d been forgiven.

“Whatever,” Owen said dismissively. “Come on, Cooper, we’ll go do some scans while Tosh looks at the device.”

They were halfway to the autopsy bay when Gwen looked back to see Ianto leading Jack into Jack’s office. Jack was clutching a sheet around his hips, his tail feathers trailing behind.

 

* * *

 

** PHALACROCORAX ARISTOTELIS **

**_The Common Shag is a species of cormorant commonly found along the rocky coasts of Europe and Great Britain. This seabird is characterized by sleek gray waterproof feathers and wings that are shorter than usual for its body length, suitable for fast, acrobatic flight at the expense of lifting strength. Despite their name, shags are monogamous and mate for life._ **

 

Ianto collapsed onto the old couch across the office from Jack’s desk, then jumped up, cussing when he inadvertently crushed his wings. He carefully considered the furniture before perching on the arm of the couch with his feet on the cushions and his wings trailing behind.

“I hated that,” he said.

“You just have to be careful with them. They look amazing on you, by the way,” said Jack, pulling an old camp stool from the corner and arranging himself carefully on it.

“Not the wings. Gwen. I hate confrontation.”

“I know. But thank you. I couldn’t have done it, Gwen just-“

Ianto sighed. Jack and Gwen had their _thing_ , and while Ianto didn’t mind, trusting Jack to know the limits, he didn’t want to talk about it. “I know. It’s OK, that’s why you have me. You take care of Torchwood, I’ll take care of you.”

“I just feel so _guilty._ ”

“I don’t understand.”

“For the rest of you, Torchwood was an escape; Tosh from her UNIT imprisonment for treason, Owen from the pain of losing his fiancée to an alien. I don't know what you were running from when Yvonne hired you, but you were still trying to survive Canary Wharf when you came here. For you three, for most people who work here, Torchwood is better than the alternative. Gwen isn't like that. I thought we needed someone less _broken_ than the rest of us, and I took her away from a good, stable life. I sacrificed her for Torchwood. It hasn't killed her yet, but it will, a little at a time. So when she says 'I have to understand' or 'I can't make him forget', how can I deny her? I've taken so much already, and will only take more."

“Well, you don’t have to take Rhys’s memory. I have a plan.”

“Oh?”

“And we’ll talk about it another time. I’ve been thinking about your tail feathers since this morning.”

“Have you now? Is that one of your kinks?” Jack grinned, intrigued.

Ianto had never really thought about it until today; it’s not like he’d been up nights fantasizing about feathers, but being with Jack had given him an appreciation for new experiences. When he’d seen Jack in bed that morning with his wings tucked back, long tail coverts draped over his arse and legs, Ianto had been unable to keep his hands to himself. He’d been instantly aroused, and he knew Jack had too; his tail had spread, and Ianto had spent the morning wondering what those feathers would feel like brushing against his thighs as Jack rode him.

“Jack, _you_ are my kink. You with _wings_ is too good an opportunity to miss. The logistics elude me so far, but I’m sure we can come up with something innovative.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, and Ianto knew that the subject was successfully changed. He held his hand out to Jack. “Come here,” he murmured. Jack stood and stepped forward, tripping over his sheet, his tail dragging the camp stool along with him and causing him to stumble and fall, with wings spread for balance, into Ianto’s arms. The sheet he’d been covering himself with dropped to the floor. Ianto instinctively beat his own wings to keep from being knocked over and held Jack close, chuckling against the juncture of neck and shoulder.

“I just can’t get the hang of these things,” Jack complained.

“I think you look magnificent.” Ianto cupped Jack’s face in his hands and kissed him hard. If his wings could support him in flight, Ianto thought, it would feel exactly like kissing Jack. Sometimes he thought he could come just from Jack’s lips on his, but then he remembered how it felt to have Jack’s mouth elsewhere, and any desire to try it out evaporated. It was with that thought in mind that, nibbling on Jack’s lower lip once more, he tangled his hand in Jack’s hair and guided his head downward.

Jack looked up at him questioningly. “Now? With everyone in the Hub?”

Ianto had enacted a ‘no sex at work’ rule early on, but while he had occasionally (okay, frequently) been willing to allow (okay, initiated) a rough fuck in the SUV after a Weevil chase, and an evening spent with one of them spread out over Jack’s desk was practically _de rigueur_ these days, he’d held fast to his insistence that they not do it when they could be caught by the team. Today, though, he didn’t care. Jack had admitted to him before the others came in that he’d never had wings or a partner with wings, so it was a rare first Ianto could claim; there was no way he was going to risk this wearing off or being reversed before he got his chance. He’d locked the door on the way in and the office was soundproof. As to being seen, well, the others were busy in other parts of the Hub.

“Yes, Jack. Now.”

Jack settled back on the couch cushion and began to unbutton Ianto’s shirt, kissing each patch of flesh as it was exposed. Ianto stared down at him; he loved watching this, watching Jack so focused on _him_. As Jack continued to undress him with agonizing slowness, Ianto reached down and gently brushed his fingers against the mottled coverts on the ridge of Jack’s wings and was rewarded by a shudder and a tweaked nipple. At Ianto’s gasp, Jack swirled his tongue around the hardening nub, then continued downward, detouring occasionally to nip or caress until Ianto was aching for more. When the last button was unfastened, Jack worked his way back up Ianto’s body to reclaim his lips in a kiss as he pushed the shirt off Ianto’s shoulders and over his wings, a more difficult task than he had realized, as Ianto’s wings had spread with his arousal.

Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist to tease the axillary feathers between Ianto’s back and wing. Trembling from the sensation, he took Jack’s other hand, moving it to the fastening of his denims before putting his own hand over the bulge in the briefs Jack had been wearing under his sheet. Jack was hard, and Ianto teased his fingers across the slight dampness over the head of his cock until Jack was writhing against him with need. Jack worked the button and the zip of Ianto’s flies, pulling back from the kiss to raise an eyebrow when he found that Ianto had worn nothing under them. Ianto pushed Jack’s head back down and swiveled on the arm of the couch so Jack could kneel on the floor.

“Demanding,” Jack teased, but Ianto knew he was just as eager. He swiftly took Ianto’s entire length into his mouth. Ianto’s retort came out as a low moan, and Jack, encouraged, began alternating light flicks of his tongue with deep, hard sucking, and it was all Ianto could do to contain his urge to grasp Jack by the hair and thrust into that silky wet warmth until he was lost. That wasn’t what he wanted today. More than his own pleasure, he wanted Jack’s; needed Jack to know what it felt like to come with his wings spread and hands tangled in his feathers. Needed Jack to always remember that Ianto had been the first. Needed it more than he needed his own release.

Ianto looked down to see Jack lapping a droplet of pre-come from his slit, stroking himself with one hand while he kept the other on Ianto’s hip to steady himself. When Jack met his eyes with a wicked grin, he knew it was time to move forward; he was far too close. He reached down to caress Jack’s cheek, then took the hand that was on his hip and helped Jack to stand, pulling him close into a kiss once more and enjoying the taste of himself in Jack’s mouth. Ianto slipped his shoes off and wiggled out of his trousers, first taking the small bottle of lube out of the pocket and tossing it to the cushions. Ianto wasn’t sure how or when Jack’s briefs had come off, but they thrust against each other, Ianto’s spit-slicked cock sliding against Jack’s as they explored each other’s feathers, panting into each other’s mouth and shivering as they discovered particularly sensitive spots.

“I’ve figured it out,” Ianto murmured against Jack’s throat while he stroked the cleft between Jack’s buttocks, ruffling the underside of his tail feathers, eliciting a debauched moan that nearly made him lose it right then.

Jack looked at him with no sign of comprehension, only pure desire.

“You’re going to ride me.”

Jack nodded eagerly, eyes wide and pupils dark. Ianto led him around to the back side of the couch, leaned against it, and helped Jack climb into his lap with his feet on the couch behind for balance and extra support.

He reached behind himself for the lube and pressed it into Jack’s hand.

“Open yourself for me. I’ll hold you so you don’t fall.”

“You’d never let me fall,” said Jack, leaning back trustingly into Ianto’s embrace.

Ianto stared, transfixed, as Jack worked himself with one slick finger, then two, with his other hand wrapped around their cocks, stroking the tips with his thumb, which he raised to Ianto’s lips. The combined taste of their pre-come exploded in Ianto’s mouth, and he could finally wait no longer.

“Enough, Jack. I need to be inside you.”

Jack rose up with one hand on Ianto’s shoulder steadying himself and the other lining Ianto up. As he eased himself onto Ianto, there was nothing keeping Jack from tipping backward except Ianto’s arms around him, but he didn’t hesitate, and Ianto thought that Jack’s absolute certainty that Ianto wouldn’t let him be hurt might be the most arousing thing ever.

They paused for a moment, breathing hard against each other as they adjusted to the intense sensations. Ianto inched one hand downward to fondle the feathers at the base of Jack’s spine, and was rewarded by a tightening quiver. Jack’s tail was spread over his thighs just as he’d been imagining, and Jack’s wings stretched behind him as he arched his back. Ianto held him close and rocked upward, slowly in and out, biting and sucking at Jack’s neck and throat.

“More,” begged Jack with a ragged, shuddering breath. He put his arms around Ianto’s neck for balance and buried his hands in Ianto’s scapular feathers.

Biting his lip, Ianto took hold of Jack’s hips and thrust up hard into him, gasping at the familiar tight heat around him and the intensity of being caressed in a place he’d never had before. He was dimly aware that his wings had spread to their full span and that they were beating in time to Jack’s rhythm as he matched Ianto’s pace, riding him with abandon, Jack’s own wings cupped forward protectively around them.

Ianto felt the tingling at the base of his spine that meant he couldn’t hold off much longer, but he wanted Jack to come first. He joined his hand with Jack’s and together they stroked him while he leaned against Ianto’s other arm. Ianto had to struggle, using his wings for ballast and balance to keep them from toppling over, but together they brought Jack to completion, and his wracking spasms of ecstasy tumbled Ianto into his own release.

They collapsed against each other, devouring each other’s mouth, heedless of the sticky mess between them as they clung together, still shaking. Ianto could feel the thrumming of Jack’s heart against his chest, could taste the sweat on his skin. This moment, this afterglow, had always struck him as more intimate then the act itself. This was the time when Jack let down all his barriers, and Jack, his true self, was so beautiful it took Ianto’s breath away to think that Jack chose _him_ of all the beings in the universe. He wanted to whisper words of devotion, longed to tell Jack that he loved him, that Ianto was his, body and soul, but words had never been their way of communicating. He raised a hand to Jack’s jaw and caressed his lips with his thumb, looking into his eyes and trying to say what was in his heart with nothing more than their silent communion. Jack’s wings folded against his back, and Ianto wrapped his own around them tenderly, providing a small, private space where they could exchange kisses and caresses, a tiny haven from the outside world.

Ianto would happily have stayed there forever, but after uncounted minutes, a soft knock on the door interrupted them. Jack carefully eased himself off Ianto’s lap, a smile of deep contentment on his face.

“One moment!” Ianto called, unsteadily gathering his clothes and dressing as quickly as he could with hands and limbs still shaking. He could hear Tosh chuckling.

“Take your time,” she said, amusement clearly coming through in her tone, “I’ve figured it out. I’ll have the others meet us back in the conference room in… fifteen minutes?”

“Thirty!” Jack shouted. He turned to Ianto and spoke more softly. “We’ll want to sneak to the showers, you’ve got come in your feathers.”

“Like that won’t be obvious, the two of us showing up with our plumage all wet.”

Jack looked hurt, and Ianto wished he could take it back. “Would that really be so terrible?”

He considered. In the beginning, he had wanted to keep it private so that the others wouldn’t accuse Jack of favoritism (which he never showed. At least not to Ianto.) Then he’d kept quiet because it was personal; he’d wanted to keep _Jack and Ianto_ out of Torchwood as much as he’d wanted to keep Torchwood out of _Jack and Ianto_. But with him spending more nights at the Hub than at his own flat, and all the times he and Jack had been interrupted by Weevil hunting or rift alerts, things weren’t so clearly defined any longer. Jack asked Ianto’s opinion on work matters, like Rhys. Ianto reminded Jack of the day’s phone conferences before they were out of bed. They were a _team_ , and hiding it from the others seemed pointless.

“I suppose not.” He took Jack’s hand and led him to the shower.

 

* * *

 

** AVES **

**_Bird behavior varies for different species and types of birds, and even between genders. Understanding different bird behaviors can help with bird identification and finding birds in the field, and birders who are aware of the way birds act will have a more rewarding experience with every bird they see._ **

 

The shower led to another round of sex, this time slow and deliberate, with Jack pushing Ianto up against the wall and teasing him with fingers and tongue until he begged to be taken. With his hands on Ianto’s hips as he thrust and his lips on the place where Ianto’s spread wings met the smooth skin of his back, Jack wondered why Ianto’s willingness to be more open about their relationship was affecting him so profoundly. He had been overwhelmed with the need to claim his lover, and from the sounds Ianto was making, he was just as moved. Smiling against Ianto’s feathers, Jack reached a hand around Ianto and brought it up to his mouth to bite, muffling his moans and cries before they echoed through the Hub. It was one thing to let the others know they were together; it was another entirely to flaunt it. And there were some things Jack wanted to keep to himself alone.

Tosh was the first one to return to the conference room. Some energy traces Owen had found had given her the clue she needed, and she was excited to share her findings. She lived for moments like this; they made up for all the lonely nights and dates she hadn’t been asked on. Tosh was a genius and she knew it, and in times like this everyone else was forced to admit it, too.

Ianto and Jack came in next. Ianto was back in his casual clothes, and Jack in his sheet, but they both had wet hair and feathers. Ianto’s looked sleek and well groomed, but Jack just looked disheveled. His sheet was wet in the back, and his tail dragged a patch of damp across the floor. Ianto knew exactly how it would look to the others, but he didn’t care. He was done worrying about what the team thought of him; he and Jack were together, and they’d just have to get used to it.

Owen and Gwen arrived together, chattering animatedly about one of the tests he had done. Owen stopped just before the doorway, looked back at his wings, which were slightly spread, and turned to the side to slip through the door without catching them. He’d learned _that_ lesson already. Gwen grinned at him. As she stepped through the door she saw Jack and Ianto standing casually next to each other. Their damp hair and feathers made it quite clear what they had been up to, but it was their demeanor that really caught her attention. They were relaxed. At ease. Jack’s usual flirtation was softer, and Ianto’s expression was more open than she’d ever seen it. She checked herself for jealousy and was surprised to find none. Whatever tension had been between herself and Jack, she had chosen Rhys, and he had chosen Ianto. That was it. She felt at peace.

When the others were seated backwards on their chairs once more (and Tosh couldn’t wait to have their comfortable task chairs back again), she began the briefing, explaining that it had been the combination of the music box and a rift spike that had triggered their change.

“You must have been playing with it only during lulls,” she said to Jack. “Owen saw some cellular changes every time it was played, but nothing happened-“

“-Until there was a small rift surge,” Owen interrupted. “The wings are pure human DNA, which is why there’s no immune reaction, no rejection. From what I can tell, the tones from the artifact forcibly rearranged our genetic code, but the altered cells remained dormant. Over time, they would have degraded and been replaced as the body naturally replenishes itself, and we’d never have known. The rift energy triggered the change.”

Gwen looked at Jack, then. “Owen thinks that if you died, you’d come back without them. Obviously that’s not an option for the rest of us.”

“Let’s assume it’s not an option for Jack either, shall we?” said Ianto in a clipped tone. He knew how much it hurt Jack to come back, and he couldn’t bear for him to go through it if there was any other choice. Plus, the wings had their charm.

Jack nodded. “We need a solution that works for all of us.”

Tosh took control of the meeting once more. “Owen thinks the cells can be forced back to their natural state if we can rework the music box to produce the right frequencies. Then all we’ll need is enough rift energy to activate them, and the wings should reabsorb.”

“Except that we don’t know if more rift energy will help or hurt, and once we change the cells, we have no control over what happens next,” said Owen.

Gwen tapped the table to get their attention. She had an idea, and she knew the others wouldn’t like it. “You have the reading from the triggering surge, right?” Tosh nodded, and she continued, “Then how about the Rift Manipulator? Can’t we recreate the event? Small and controlled?”

“NO!” Jack shouted. It took him a moment to calm down before he could speak. “How can you suggest that, after what happened last time?”

“Last time we were being manipulated by Bilis Manger, and the Rift was opened fully. What we need here is just the right amount, like cracking a door open instead of kicking it down.”

“I think I can do it, Jack,” said Tosh. “It may take me a while to do the calculations, and that’s after we work out the music box, but I think we should try. Owen can research other options, but I think this is our best chance.”

Jack looked at Ianto, who thought a moment. “It can’t hurt to do the preliminary work. I’d like to see some projections and probabilities first, then I think we should all decide together.” Ianto hoped Jack would understand; he knew Jack was still stung by their betrayal just before Abaddon, but this was an entirely different situation.

“Fine. Do it.” Jack snapped, still not convinced.

“And in the meantime,” Ianto continued, “Tosh said it might take days. I think we should all stay here for the duration.” Gwen looked like she might object, so Ianto held up his hand. “Call Rhys, ask him to join us. We have things we need to discuss with him anyway, and it would helpful to have someone who can go out and about for us.”

“Where will we all stay?” Tosh asked. “There’s a couch in Jack’s office, and one in the main Hub, and Jack has his quarters, but what about the rest of us?”

Ianto blushed bright red and took a deep breath to gather his courage. “I’ll be staying with Jack. I spend most of my nights here anyway. And there’s a camp bed in the archives if Tosh wants it.”

“I can ask Rhys to bring our camping gear, we can set up in the conservatory. It’ll be like a safari, but with indoor plumbing.”

“That leaves me my choice of couches.” Owen said with a sigh. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t slept on them a number of times, but he’d rather not be in a position to hear Jack and Ianto _and_ Gwen and Rhys. He couldn’t decide which was worse. “But can we move it somewhere else? Because I’d like to actually sleep at night, thanks very much.”

Jack chuckled. “We can make that happen. Great work, everyone, let’s get started.”

Everything was going to be okay. Owen was thinking that he might spend some time with Tosh in the archives. He’d noticed the way she reacted to his touch earlier and was beginning to consider that maybe it was time to stop thinking of her as an awkward intellectual. Tosh was already working equations in her mind, and Gwen, excited about having Rhys in the Hub, was planning some interesting ways to spend their time together while she still had wings. Ianto, sated for the moment, went to draft his proposal regarding Rhys, and Jack retreated to his office to think about how they’d manage the Rift while they sorted this out. Despite recent setbacks, Torchwood was working as a team again.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Wikipedia, Pennsylvania State University, The Open Ornithology Journal, and birding.about.com for the information on different species of birds, which I have sometimes rephrased, and sometimes lifted wholesale. The description of the blue jay, including the snark, is verbatim. It was just too good to pass up.
> 
> Also, my deepest gratitude to GMariam for enabling and beta reading, and to Tstul006 for the inspiring smut she’s written for me in the past. 
> 
> PSA  
> Folks, I know the fandom is dwindling… but there are some really amazing stories still being written, and some of those authors have a huge back catalogue to enjoy, and re-enjoy. And don’t skip commenting on older stories or inactive writers! Torchwood ain’t over ‘til Myfanwy sings, and the old bird isn’t squawking yet.


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